


One Time

by JStevens



Category: Stand Still Stay Silent
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-23
Updated: 2016-10-07
Packaged: 2018-08-11 22:15:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 14,865
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7909630
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JStevens/pseuds/JStevens
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The first expedition came to a disastrous end in Odense, but nearly a year later, the time (and budget) has finally come for a second attempt. Emil tells himself his confusing memories can’t be trusted. Lalli tells himself he must be misunderstanding things yet again. The universe would like to tell them both how wrong they are.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A scenario began to unfold in my mind of Lalli and Emil being reunited some time after the first expedition. It then diverged into two entirely different stories as ideas developed and wandered off in different directions. This is the fluffy scenario, probably more influenced by a week or two of listening to non-stop Fitz and the Tantrums, and it became something like a "five times XXX tried to kiss (and one time they did)" riff. Thus you are now presented with "One TIme." I wasn't sure if I should post it, because the darker version has taken on more of a life of its own--but I figure everyone needs some more SSSS fic, no?
> 
> The darker version will be posted separately as "Come To Me." For some reason they both feature surprising new haircuts. I'm honestly not sure why...

**Prologue**  

 _There’s nothing to be nervous about_ , Emil told himself as he rolled up another shirt, stuffing it into the duffel bag that sat at the end of his bed. Then he looked down at the open bag bursting with half of his wardrobe and swore.

“Why am I packing all this?” he asked the empty room at large. Dragging a hand through the hair hanging in his eyes, he let out a long string of curses that described a few things that not even Sigrun would dare do to a troll, and then he began pulling the clothes back out. “Aunt Siv already told you they prepared new uniforms,” he muttered to himself as he pulled a warm sweater out the bag and dropped it back into the trunk at the foot of the bed. “What are you going to do with a whole bag of clothes that won’t fit in the tank?”

At least no one else was here to see him acting like an idiot. Two of the other three cleansers he shared a room with had gotten the hell out of Östersund the moment they got their winter leave. Pers was still in town somewhere, but he certainly wasn’t wasting their precious leave sitting around inside the barracks on one of the last clear days of autumn. Kissekatt was the only one to witness his idiocy and luckily she would not be telling anyone. She was too busy napping in a bar of sunshine coming through the window to wonder why her human was furiously stuffing clothing into the trunk he had only just taken it from.

It had been a long season. Their division had been working on the line between Östersund and Mora for the past three months—the very same line, in fact, that Emil would be taking the next morning to reach Mora. Before that, they had spent the early summer widening the perimeter around the mines in Skellefteå. The entire squadron was exhausted, and Emil should have been more exhausted than most. After all, he’d volunteered to accompany the cat corps in the spring as well. He hadn’t had more than a weekend of leave in the eight months since he’d returned to the Swedish military. And he had liked it that way. He couldn’t imagine any more weeks like the ones he had spent in the hospital in Mora, with nothing to distract him from his memories.

Emil slammed the lid of his trunk shut and flipped the clasps shut, letting his hands rest upon the top of the leather for a moment. He folded to the ground, his head sagging down to land on his forearms as he kneeled in front of the trunk. If only he could fold up his thoughts and lock them away as easily as he did his clothes. He'd done his best to do just that for the past ten months, but he had failed. The memories still came to him at the oddest times: brushing against his waking mind like a feather-light figure slipping past him in the narrow confines of a steel tank, their shoulders meeting and touching for the briefest of moments. And the dreams...

The dreams were even worse.

He would be seeing the whole crew again in less than 48 hours. The thought made something in the region of his heart squeeze. Would it be the same? Did he want it to be? Emil dropped his arms to his sides and let his head bang down upon the top of the trunk’s lid. He turned his face so that his cheek pressed against the leather. It felt cool compared to his flushed face. He wouldn’t be getting any sleep tonight. It was the last night that he could believe in his memories and cling to the possibilities they held. His last night to try to tell himself that there was some good reason why Lalli had left Sweden without even a word to him. Tomorrow the journey began and he would have to face whatever reality was waiting for him, because he was going back. Back to the Silent World.

 


	2. Chapter 1

**1**

“You’re _not_ leaving me alone with them!”

The panicked cry came from Siv, as Emil stepped into his boots at the front door. Torbjorn was already buttoning up his jacket, the long ends of his scarf hanging down to either side of its fur-lined collar. Emil look apologetically at his aunt, and at the three children peering around her. “Sorry, Aunt Siv. And sorry, guys. Uncle thought it might be better if I come along to Bjorkofjarden to meet the Finns, too.”

“But that’s an extra ticket! Each way!” Siv wailed, and Emil wasn’t sure if she was more upset about the expense or the fact that she would be left dealing with her monstrous brood alone for the entire night and the better part of the next day.

Emil looked at his uncle, his hands stopping on the zipper of his jacket. “I _could_ stay behind and help Siv.” It was the coward's way out: a transparent attempt--even if only to himself--to put off meeting Lalli even 12 more hours. At least he could couch it in the appearance of helping his poor aunt. He might even be able to still get his hair cut, as he’d meant to do that day.

“No, no,” Torbjorn insisted absently, winding his scarf around his face till everything south of his eyes had disappeared behind the red wool. “You should come. You’re better at dealing with them than I am. The little one talks too much and the skinny one is just unsettling.”

 _He is not,_ Emil wanted to protest. But Siv spoke up again before he might have. “Did you already make reservations?” Torbjorn shook his head. The train rarely sold out. “Then why don’t we just send Emil on his own, and you can stay here and help with the children?”

There was a triumphant glint in her tired eyes. Torbjorn’s hands dropped limply from his scarf. “Wh-what? But that’s... But Emil’s not...”

“Emil’s not what? The 14 year old boy who first moved here for school?" She was already reaching for his scarf. "You're right. He's not. He’s 20 years old, and he has survived the Silent World, Torbjorn. I’m sure he can manage getting to Bjorkofjarden and back without losing half the crew.”

“B-but—!”

Torbjorn was still protesting as Siv stripped him of his jacket and the children began swarming up his legs. And that was how Emil ended up riding the train to the coast on his own.

 

 

It was an easy ride. The line was completely cleansed, unlike the north-south lines that ran in and out of Mora, and it was nearly winter besides. Emil wished he could use the peace and quiet to catch up on some sleep. He’d barely gotten any rest his last night in the military barracks, and now he could look forward to spending the night on the couches of the Bjorkofjarden ferry terminal instead of in a soft bed at his uncle’s home. But closing his eyes only let his intruding thoughts take over, his imagination crafting elaborate possibilities of things that might or might not ever be. Instead he kept his eyes open and stared out the window at the passing landscape, knowing that every fencepost whizzing by was bringing him that much closer to a meeting that he had been waiting for and dreading for 272 days. Approximately. He hadn’t been counting—not religiously anyway.

When he felt the train beginning to slow, Emil couldn’t take it any longer. He couldn’t bear to sit at his seat and watch the Baltic Sea come into view. Grabbing up his jacket and newspaper, he hurried to the bathroom. The small compartment was unoccupied and he dropped his paper on the closed toilet seat, leaning the heels of his hands on the edge of the sink as he stared at himself in the mirror. The Hotakainens were probably still somewhere in the waters of Finland at this very moment, but what if he had somehow mixed up the timing again? The thought of messing up this second first impression as badly as he had the first one was unforgivable.

Peering into the dim mirror, he tugged the tie from his hair and watched it fall loose around his face. There was a terrible kink in the middle from the elastic tie and it was too long besides. It hadn't been cut in months. Once he’d been made squadron leader in July, he’d been busier than ever. The promotion had come with paperwork and reports and other duties he hadn’t anticipated--but it had also gotten him into a 4-person room in the barracks, instead of the 12-person rooms that new recruits were shoved into and which he also had lived in the previous two years.

There was nothing to do about his hair now. He’d been hoping to visit a salon in Mora during the afternoon he’d expected to have free in the city. He hadn’t anticipated his aunt and uncle roping him into the trip to Bjorkofjarden instead. Running his fingers through the long strands, he tried pulling just the top half back. _No._ He frowned and brushed through it again to try tying the ends into a simple braid. _Ugh. No thanks, Reynir._ He quickly pulled his fingers through the strands to loosen the braid.

After several more minutes of fiddling and agonizing and wishing again that he had refused his uncle, he ended up tying it back into the same simple ponytail that he had walked into the bathroom with. At least he didn’t have food on his shirt. And the shirt looked pretty good on him, he decided as he turned slightly, holding his arms out at his sides. Two months of hospital food at the beginning of the year had made him lose nearly five kilos and if he had gained any of them back over the hard summer, it had been in muscle rather than fat. The hair wasn't that bad. He looked fine. He  _was_ fine.

He staggered when he stepped down from the train’s step to the platform. He no longer limped when walking on flat ground, but he did still have some weakness in his right leg. The doctors had told him it could take a year or more to recover full function, but then he _had_ broken the bones in two places. He shook his head, trying to brush away the memories that began fighting their way up from the past with the twinge of pain. The way he had clung to Lalli as the scout helped drag him back to the tank. The explosive agony every time his right foot accidentally hit the ground. The constant stream of Finnish curses he could hear puffing against his cheek whenever there was a break between his own rough breathing and groans.

 _But that was last time. Things will be different this time._ If only he knew for sure that different would be better. If only he knew what it was he wanted.

 

 

Lalli lay face down on one of the stuffed benches that lined the ship’s cafeteria. The cracked fabric was rough on his face, but the uncomfortable sensation helped distract him from the nausea clawing its way up his throat.

“It’s not getting any better?” Tuuri asked, ducking her head under the table between them so that she could peer at Lalli between its legs.

“No.” He spoke into the material, not bothering to lift his head. “Why did I come here?”

Tuuri slipped under the table, crouching beneath it. He heard her knees crack as she did, and he reluctantly turned his face to meet her gaze.

“Because you’re the best scout ever and we need you?” she suggested, the smile evident in her voice even if it was hard to make out in the gloomy shadows. “Come on, aren’t you even a little bit excited? You’ll get to see Emil again, too. He’s your friend, right?”

Lalli let his eyes fall shut again, feeling his eyebrows bunch together. _Friend_. He turned his face back into the seat.

He and Tuuri had been closer since their misadventure the previous winter. He’d gotten used to having her around in the small confines of the tank. He wouldn’t say that he sought out her company exactly, but if he managed to make it in time for one of the communal meals in Keuruu, he would find her among the crowd and sit beside her rather than slinking off with his food alone. She always kept a spot open for him and she didn’t force him into the conversations she had with her skald friends. But sitting beside her had also meant seeing every letter that she received over the months: notes from Mikkel and Taru and even faraway Reynir. When the letter had come from Taru saying that they’d been able to scrap together enough budget for a second attempt at their expedition—which would hopefully not end as quickly and disastrously as the previous one had—Lalli had suggested that maybe Onni should go with her this time.

“Y-you can’t be serious!” she had stammered, staring at him in disbelief. “Of course you’re coming. You’re part of the crew!”

Other people had turned around to see what Tuuri was berating her odd cousin about this time, so Lalli had risen from the table and walked away. Tuuri had come chasing after him on her shorter legs and grabbed him by the arm, something she normally wouldn’t attempt unless she was truly upset. He had looked down at her in some surprise.  _Why is she taking this so personally? It's not about her. It's all about_ him.

“Lalli! Do you really meant that?” Tuuri had held him still by grabbing each of his arms and tugging on them until he was forced to bend over to her level. She’d pushed her face right up into his personal space. “You really don’t want to come with us? Since when exactly? I mean--come on, you made me tutor you in Swedish for ten months!”

He had shrugged, but in the end he had given into her nagging. So now he was on the boat back to Mora once again, feeling sick and miserable and unable to convince himself that it was all because of the gentle sway of the boat.

A part of him welcomed the nausea. Without it, the urge to never disembark from the ship in Sweden would probably win out even over Tuuri's weedling.  _Apparently I'm a glutton for punishment._ He snorted into the musty fabric.

 _I'm here to do a job. I won't even have to talk to him if I...if I don't want to. It's just a job, and I’m ready for it this time._ He had pushed Onni, and his teacher had finally agreed that Lalli needed to be better equipped to handle what the Silent World might throw at him. Even cautious Onni couldn’t claim that the higher magics were too dangerous when he had seen firsthand the state Lalli was left in after Odense. The two of them had taken almost complete leave from their scouting duties—the division was luckily used to covering their absence after they had both left for the better part of the winter—and so had begun the most punishing spring and summer of Lalli’s life.

A winter spent in the Silent World should be a quiet reprieve after all the long nights he and Onni had spent fighting their way through the infected masses that emerged from their dens in the summer heat. They had traveled as far to the east as the ruins of Jyväskylä, camping out for nearly three weeks among Finland’s dead past. Sleeping within the four solid steel walls of the tank with sensors set up around it sounded like heaven after that trip. But then came the thought of the people who would be in that tank with him—and Lalli felt his stomach clenching up again.

“You’re not really _that_ unhappy about coming, are you, Lalli?” Tuuri’s question made him remember that she was still squatting beside him. His thoughts had been somewhere hundreds of kilometers to the west already. Lalli grunted and his cousin ran a soft hand through his short hair, making it stand on end. He brushed it back forward in irritation. He’d had no choice but to slice off a notable hunk when a troll in Jyväskylä had grabbed him by the hair and nearly ripped out his throat. It had been the only way to get free. And once they had retreated to their camp for the day, there had been nothing to do but sit obediently while Onni sawed the rest of it off in clumps with his dagger. He hated it. He felt naked and exposed. It had better grow back soon.

Lalli kept his hands clapped over his forehead and grumbled, “It’s fine. Just let me sleep. You know the ship makes me sick.”

Tuuri crept back over to her side of the table and flopped down on the opposite bench. In something like eight hours they would be arriving in Sweden. If he closed his eyes, Lalli could still picture the port. It had been the first place he had ever been outside of Finland—and the first place he had ever laid eyes on Emil. _Emil._ Lalli ground his face back into the scratchy fabric.


	3. Chapter 2

**2**

Emil had fallen asleep with his newspaper tented over his face, when his exhaustion had finally caught up with him sometime after midnight. Now he felt the brush of paper against his face as someone cautiously lifted one corner of yesterday’s _Dagens Nyheter._

Flinching away from the light, Emil peered up blearily at the woman leaning over him. She clamped her hands over her mouth and exclaimed from behind them, “Oh my god, _Emil?!_ Is that really you?”

“Tuuri?” He sat up, letting the newspaper drop into his lap. He scrubbed at his face as he took in the empty arrivals lounge. The boat must have arrived some time ago and most of the passengers already passed through on their way to their final destinations. “Shit, what time is it? If we miss the train—!”

“It’s fine! At least it probably is. I already sent Lalli outside to check the train platform because we didn’t see your aunt and uncle here. He’ll make sure the train doesn’t leave without us.”

Emil staggered to his feet and stretched his sore back, and Tuuri threw her arms around his waist. He froze with his arms still over his head, then reached down to pat her awkwardly as she gushed, “But why didn’t they tell us you were coming to meet us? It’s so good to see you again! I can’t believe how nostalgic this all feels!”

She beamed up at him, her face framed now by a bob that she had tucked behind her ears. He approved of the new look, but had somehow never imagined that she would look any different now than she had a year ago. Maybe he _was_ living too much on memories. Maybe he was about to find out that reality was something else entirely.

“It was sort of a last minute decision,” he admitted, untangling himself from her hug. “But come on, I can explain once we’re on the train. We should probably go find Lalli before he starts a fight with some poor conductor.”

 _Lalli._ It was the first time he’d said the name aloud in months. He’d hardly let himself think it. Grabbing the bag that hung from Tuuri’s hand, he strode toward the exit without waiting for a response. He was worried about missing the train. That is what he told himself. It certainly wasn’t simply the fact that Lalli was here in his country, in the same small town, about to be in the very same train car as him.

Bursting out into the sunny morning, he scanned the deserted square in front of the train. _Where is he?_ There were a few small groups still saying goodbyes, but he didn’t spot the Finnish scout anywhere.

_"Lalli! Älä turhaan etsi vanhuksia. Emil tuli meitä vastaan!”_

Emil heard his name in the flurry of Finnish words that Tuuri called out from behind him and one of the strangers turned around at the noise. Then the bag dropped from Emil’s shoulder. His hands were too slow to grab it in time and it fell to the ground with a thump. He felt his cheeks burn as he ducked down to pick it up, and Tuuri passed him as she jogged up to the stranger’s side. Because the stranger was no stranger: it was Lalli.

Lifting the bag back to his shoulder, Emil walked slowly toward the train, using every unhurried step to drink in the sight of the mage. If the changes to Tuuri's appearance had been eye-opening, seeing Lalli was like a punch to the gut. His long, permanently-tousled hair had been cut off. It was still wild and tousled, but it could no longer be tucked behind his ears or hidden behind, like a curtain that Lalli peered around to view the rest of the world when he chose. The short strands brushed across his forehead and stood up in little licks around the head that was ducked to listen to whatever it was Tuuri was saying to him, and Emil’s hands itched to smooth them down. The angles of Lalli's face could have looked hard without the long hair to soften them, but they didn't appear that way to Emil. He looked older, sharper, and eerily beautiful.

“ _Hej_ ,” Emil said in a rough voice, just managing to get the word out during a pause in Tuuri’s bright chatter. “Should we find some seats?”

Lalli met his eyes for an instant and he gave a brief nod of—greeting? understanding?—before slinging his bag over his shoulder and stepping up into the train. Then he had disappeared into the dark interior. Tuuri hurried after him while Emil stood a moment on the platform. _Is that it?_ he wondered, and then, _What else were you expecting?_ It was Lalli, after all. Lalli who hardly spoke and who hated people and who clearly hadn’t been tortured by confusing memories of Emil all year. He'd been an idiot. For ten long months, he had been a complete idiot, imagining some deeper meaning into every touch and glance Lalli had given him.

_It was all in my head. There’s nothing there. There never was._

At least it was settled now. It should have been a relief. He didn't have to keep questioning if his pulse really had raced, if those touches really had lingered longer than necessary, if Lalli really had looked at him differently than he looked at anyone else. It had all been blown out of proportion by the stress and by the distorted mirror of time. The confusing dreams would surely stop, too; now that reality had proved to him how wrong he had been to ever think that Lalli could be anything to him but an odd, difficult, precious friend. So why did disappointment hit him so hard that he had to hold onto the doorframe for support for a moment?

Tuuri had beat him into the train car, so she got her pick of seats. Lalli had slipped into one of the last empty rows and Tuuri practically threw herself into the row behind him before anyone else could steal her window seat. The seats were two to a side, so Emil was left to choose which one of the Finns he would sit beside. Tuuri was the only one of the two who he could have a conversation with, and the only one who he wasn't possibly in love with. He dropped down into the chair next to Lalli, turning to hand Tuuri’s bag back to her.

“Well, here we go again,” he muttered as he sank into the seatback. The Finnish scout glanced at him and raised an eyebrow. Even that supercilious expression had changed from what Emil remembered: now that the eyebrow simply disappeared beneath the fringe that swept across Lalli’s forehead. Emil searched for something more to say, if it meant Lalli would keep looking his way. It was insane. It was like prodding at a sore tooth with your tongue, just to feel the satisfaction of the pain.  _I am not going to do this to myself. I'm not this pathetic._ He tried to remember what a normal friend would do.

The train gave a small lurch and then began rolling back along the tracks that would take them to Mora. It was a three-hour trip and he assumed that neither of the other two had gotten any breakfast on the ship. “Does anyone want any food?” he suggested, raising a hand to his mouth to help illustrate for Lalli. Lalli had been beginning to learn some Swedish before their trip had been come to such an abrupt end the past winter, but Emil had no idea how much he might remember.

Lalli gave a shrug, but grabbed the seatback in front of him to pull himself to his feet—earning him a glare from the Swedish woman sitting in the next row as her chair was jerked back. Emil blinked. He had meant to go alone, but now Lalli was waiting for him to move and so he had no choice but to sidle out into the aisle ahead of the Finn. He paused for a second with one arm on the back of his seat to ask Tuuri, “Do you want something? We won’t get to Mora till nearly lunchtime.”

“Maybe just some bread? Or, no, do you think they have any pastries?” Her eyes were practically sparkling at the thought. “Like the ones with icing and everything? Or is that too much? Are you paying or will it come out of our salaries? I don’t want to ask you to pay for anything fancy, but if it could come out of our salaries then...”

Lalli jabbed his bony kneecap into the soft flesh at the back of Emil’s right knee, making his leg buckle. Emil shot him a look of disbelief as he caught himself on the chair. It was a good thing that he’d already had one hand on the seatback—and that Lalli had chosen Emil’s bad leg to attack. If Emil had been unexpectedly left with all his weight on his right leg rather than his left one, he might have ended up on the floor.

“A pastry,” he confirmed, still glaring behind himself at Lalli’s bored face. “We’ll get you a pastry.” Shaking his head, he turned and led the way as he muttered, “Come on, Mr. Impatient.”

They wended their way through the cars until they reached the dining car at the rear. Lalli was a silent presence the entire walk, and Emil's initial disappointment was deepening into bewilderment. It wasn't like he'd never seen Lalli acting like this. He had: this was the Lalli that glared at Mikkel when he came at Lalli brandishing decontaminating spray. It was the Lalli who narrowed his eyes in disgust at Reynir's ignorant gaping and stumbling speech. He'd seen this Lalli shutting down and shutting out the other members of the crew, but not him. Except perhaps for that one time he had nearly blown up a building with Lalli inside of it. He hadn't blown anything up today, so what was Lalli's problem?

He grabbed a tray from the stack beside the buffet and slid it along the metal rail facing the displays of semi-edible train food. He was leaning forward to see past the other passengers desperate enough to buy the stuff, trying to scout out any pastries, when he felt a slight pulling on his hair. He turned around to find Lalli’s hand still suspended in the air, the Finn himself looking a bit surprised to see it there.

“My hair?” Emil asked, his hand coming up self-consciously to touch his ponytail.

Lalli tilted his head to the side, his expression not changing. He reached out again to rake his fingers through the ponytail, his fingertips breaking through the strands and grazing Emil’s hand as they passed.

“I know,” Emil said nervously, feeling the need to say something, _anything_ , to fill the silence. “It’s too long. I meant to have it cut." Lalli's fingers retreated, and Emil wanted to grab them back. It was the first hint of interest Lalli had shown him and it made his heart leap with a fool's hope. Maybe Lalli had just been in a bad mood that morning. He  _had_ always gotten ill riding in the tank and Emil remembered now that he had been seasick during his first crossing from Finland as well.

"What about you?” Emil said as he reached up to tug a lock of the silvery blond hair that fell over Lalli’s darker brows. “This is a different look for you.”

Lalli grimaced and ran a thin hand across his forehead, leaving a wake of tousled hair behind it. Emil couldn’t resist this time and he smoothed it back down, brushing through it with his fingers to arrange it till he was satisfied with the look. Someone behind Lalli cleared their throat pointedly and Emil realized that a large gap had opened beside him as the line moved on without his noticing. With a flush burning in his cheeks, Emil shoved his empty tray down the line so violently that it nearly skittered off the rails. Lalli stretched one arm around him to grab it before tipped over, his other hand lightly resting on Emil’s back as he leaned precariously far to the side to push the tray back onto the metal bars. He removed the hand as he straightened, and Emil immediately missed its warmth. But neither of them said another word as they shuffled through the line and Emil loaded the tray with every sweet baked good in sight.


	4. Chapter 3

**3**  

 

The pastries had disappeared in no time, the paper plate tucked into a seat pocket along with Emil's crumpled newspaper. Emil twisted around again to talk to Tuuri through the space between his seat and Lalli’s, which put him even closer to Lalli. The front of his shoulder bumped again Lalli’s shoulder and if they had turned to look at one another at the same time, their faces would have nearly met. Lalli’s hand, which had been resting on the armrest between them, didn’t move away—even though it was now trapped in region of Emil’s waist. When he shifted, Emil felt his stomach brush against the fingers still stubbornly gripping the armrest and his muscles clenched. He let himself lean into Lalli a little more than was necessary, but Lalli didn’t react.

“So did you hear everything from Siv and Torbjorn? Or Taru, I suppose?”

Tuuri nodded, glancing away from her rapturous viewing of the countryside long enough to make polite eye contact. “I think so. Taru wrote me first to explain that they had secured another grant from the Nordic Council, though only half the size of the last one. It was enough to fix up the tank and buy a bit of new equipment. The group apparently supplied the rest of the necessary funds themselves, taking some of the profit from the books we got last time.”

Emil laughed nervously, and then muttered in a low tone, “We probably shouldn’t talk much about that in public.”

Tuuri blinked. “Oh right. Anyway. I did also get a letter from your uncle with the rough schedule, telling us to arrive today and that we would be heading to Oresund immediately tonight. Is that still the plan?”

“Yes. We’ll have a bit of time in Mora, but then we’ll—" Emil broke off with a choked noise and Tuuri looked at him oddly. One of knuckles that had been pressed against his stomach had begun tracing little patterns against his shirt. If it had been just once, it could have been some sort of involuntary twitch. But Lalli’s finger kept moving in small circles against his abdomen.

Emil cleared his throat and tried again. “Then we’ll leave tonight on the 22:00 Dalahasten. Just like last time. But hopefully without any trolls this time.” The confusing touch hadn’t stopped and Emil shifted slightly, hoping Tuuri couldn’t see anything from her vantage behind them. “I can at least reassure you there have been no deaths on the Dalahasten so far this year. Though it only runs every other week in the summer.”

Did his voice sound oddly strained to her or was that just his ears? Tuuri’s eyes were on the window again, so he couldn’t be acting that oddly. Taking advantage of her distraction, he looked to the side and found Lalli examining him from the scant distance separating them. He ran his knuckle in another circle as Emil searched his gray eyes for some hint of what was going on in the brain behind them.

“Sigrun and Mikkel are meeting us in Oresund again, right?”

The question from Tuuri drew Emil’s attention back through the crack between the two seats. She was looking at him curiously, waiting for a response to the simple inquiry.

 

 

 _I shouldn’t have come_. The thought was running over and over in Lalli’s mind, interrupted occasionally by _And I really shouldn’t be doing this._ Yet his finger kept stroking Emil’s stomach like it had a mind of its own. On the rare nights when he had let himself imagine meeting Emil again, it had never gone well. He had expected Emil would be furious at him for disappearing without even a goodbye, or hurt that he’d never tried to contact him with any explanation, or the most likely and terrible: that Emil would simply act distant, remembering Lalli as a vague acquaintance he had known for a brief time and nothing more. It had been more to Lalli.

He hadn’t understood at first. His very first impression of Emil had been a haze of blond hair and straight teeth and a swirl of nausea. When the nausea had begun to retreat, his second impression had been a brash grin above a shirt splattered with dried food and blue eyes that seemed to bore into him with a straightforward curiosity he wasn’t used to. It wasn’t often that he had to meet new people. No one in Keuruu would give a scout like him a second glance—especially since a part of their job was to be gone before anything unfriendly ever got a first glance at them.

His third impression, though, had improved his opinion of the Swede. Emil had allowed him to poach whatever of his food that he liked, and even gone out of his way to get him more. This, Lalli had decided, was the type of foreigner he could get used to. If they all wanted to wait on him hand and foot, he could learn to accept their staring and their loud babble.

Then the expedition had begun, and none of the other crew had been like Emil. They were each all right in their own ways, but Emil was the only one to set a steaming bowl of food beside him when he was too exhausted from scouting to fetch one himself. Mikkel made sure that he was whole and healthy after expeditions, but Emil made sure that he was warm, with a thick coat around his shoulders, and gave him a shoulder to lean against when he was too worn to stand on his own. Emil was simply always there, always offering, always generous with his smiles and his patience and his friendship. After a while, Lalli had grown to expect the doting attention. Then he had grown to depend on it. Finally, he had grown to anticipate it.

He didn't know what day of what month it had happened, but there was  _before_ and there was  _after_.  _After,_ his first thought every time he returned from scouting and spotted the tank was of Emil's welcoming smile.  _After_ , he didn't just accept Emil's little touches--he sought out excuses to touch Emil himself.  _After_ , he began to fear for Emil's safety in the field, not as a member of the crew he was tasked with protecting, but as someone that Lalli simply and selfishly  _did not want_ to lose.

When he had realized what all this meant, he had ruthlessly repressed the feelings. Surely he was misreading the situation again. He had begun to look for signs that Emil was just as attentive to the others. He would see Emil gently tug a book from under Tuuri's sleeping face, when they came in late at night, and tell himself,  _You see? He would take care of anyone._  He watched as Emil tried, clearly exasperated, to teach Reynir how to use a knife in basic self defense. And he would remind himself:  _You are not special to him. You are just another lost cause in his eyes._ Leaning in the doorway to the tank's cockpit, he saw Emil shake a blanket out and let it fall over Sigrun where she had fallen asleep during night watch, tucking the edges around her shoulders. And despite everything he told himself, he would think,  _I don't care. He is special to me._

Then Emil had strode right up to him this morning, looking as golden and bright as Paiva himself, and none of the things Lalli had feared had happened. Despite weeks of preparing himself for the worst, Emil hadn't been angry or hurt or anything. He had been _normal._ He had been so familiarly, heart-achingly normal that it might have only been the day before that they’d last been working side-by-side. The normalcy confused Lalli. Hadn’t Emil cared that Lalli had left Sweden without so much as a word? Had he forgiven Lalli that easily—so much more easily than Lalli had forgiven himself? Or Onni, who had been the one to carry him out of the hospital when he had tried hanging onto the doorframe in protest? Or had it simply _not mattered_ to Emil that Lalli left his life without any warning or message? 

He didn't understand. Lalli didn't like not understanding something--it made him irritable and reckless. So, when Emil leaned into him, trapping his hand between their bodies, Lalli was reckless. He wondered if he was trying to sabotage himself with his wandering fingers. _Emil doesn’t want this. You’re misreading things again_ , Lalli told himself as if he could brace himself for the inevitable blow of Emil’s rejection. But he couldn’t. When Emil shifted away, pulling his right arm free from where it had been wedged in against Lalli’s own shoulder and moving his torso out of reach with the same move, Lalli felt like he might be sick. _I shouldn’t have come._

He was about to curl up against the wall of the train when Emil continued his shifting, settling on one hip so that he could stretch his right arm across Lalli’s front. He planted his hand on the seat beside Lalli’s left thigh, leaning once again into Lalli’s shoulder as the thumb of his right hand stroked Lalli’s leg.

As all of this happened, Emil went on talking to Tuuri about the plans to rendezvous with the rest of the crew. Lalli recognized enough of the words to follow the gist of the conversation without trouble. The only trouble he was having was with his heart, which seemed determined to leap from his rib cage. Could Emil feel it pounding from where he sat? He kept his eyelids half-shuttered as he looked to the side to check Emil’s expression. There was a pink tinge staining the tips of the Swede’s ears, but Tuuri probably wouldn’t notice from where she was sitting. Otherwise Emil seemed to be trying studiously to  _not_ look at Lalli. Yet his thumb kept on stroking Lalli's leg.

Lalli was used to second-guessing things. He'd gotten so many situations wrong in his life that he knew he shouldn't trust his first impressions. But he was pretty sure this time that there was only one way to read this turn of events. Lalli had made an overture and Emil had responded in kind. He had been wrong. For the better part of a year, he had been completely, ass-backwards wrong about everything that mattered. But he had also been  _right_ in the most important way. The relief and disbelief were almost too much for him after a very trying night and morning thus far. His head fell back against the padded seat, and Lalli let his eyes fall shut as he soaked up every sensation and prayed the moment would not end.

 


	5. Chapter 4

**4**

Emil racked his mind for questions to ask Tuuri to keep the conversation going. His hip ached and his arm was cramping--and he wouldn't have moved for all the world. But he wouldn't have an excuse to stay twisted around if he stopped talking to Tuuri--and if he turned back about in his seat, he would need to take his arm back. Then what would happen? He shot a look at Lalli. It was a surprise and a relief to see that the Finn's eyes were closed. It gave Emil a few moments to study his face and especially the small smile playing about Lalli's lips. He looked like a cat who had just found a lake of cream. Emil's thumb paused for a moment, but then he gently pinched the side of Lalli's thigh. The mage mumbled softly and Emil realized that he was sleeping.

He couldn't seem to help the grin that spread across his face. Since Tuuri was giving her attention to the window again anyway, Emil took the chance to gingerly lift his arm away and straighten up. Lalli didn't wake.  _Have you been working as a night scout all these months?_ Emil wondered, wanting to ask so many things.  _Is this your nighttime?  Have you been sleeping days all summer since I last saw you? Or have you just been pushing yourself too hard again, so that you fall asleep whenever you sit more than five minutes?_  He reached up and brushed the white blond hair from Lalli's brow, careful not to wake the Finn. _Or did you get no sleep on the ship because it made you sick?_

Emil eased himself back into his seat the right way around but then he didn't like the distance that the position left between them. Glancing back once more through the crack to check that Tuuri wasn't paying any attention, he took the armrest that jutted between he and Lalli and gave it a tug. It swung up and could be slid into the space between the two seats, which served both of Emil's purposes: it blocked most all of Tuuri's view and removed the only obstacle keeping him from Lalli.

With a forwardness he couldn't have imagined even a day before, he reached over and slipped one hand behind Lalli's neck, feeling the short hair there tickling his skin. He gently pulled the sleeping mage to the side until Lalli's shoulder and head were resting against his own. _Yes. This is how we should be._ His own eyes slid shut as he lowered his hand back into the space between them, the back of his fingers against Lalli's leg. He rubbed his cheek for a moment against the silky spikes of hair that stood up around Lalli's head. It was exactly as things had been the previous year, only completely different: now Emil knew that the thoughts he'd harbored in secret might have been shared. For the first time, he could believe--not simply wish--that this had a real chance.

 

  

Lalli woke when the train's momentum suddenly slowed. The part of his scout's brain that never entirely shut off noted the shift in speed and he peeled an eye open. There were houses outside the windows. Those red Swedish houses he had seen a year before. They were in Mora and there was a weight against his side. Wriggling slightly, he unwedged him from under Emil's larger shoulder and sat up straight. He climbed onto his chair to peer over it at Tuuri in the row behind them. "We're there?" he asked without any preamble. His cousin glanced up at him in surprise.

"You're awake? Oh, good." She gestured out the window. "Yes, we're just pulling into Mora. Did you hear what Emil was talking about when we first got on the train?" He didn't respond, since he didn't think Tuuri would want to hear about why he'd been less than focused on the Swedish conversation at that particular time. "Apparently we'll have several hours in the city before we need to get ready to take the night train to Oresund."

Emil's body slid to the side, his face colliding with Lalli's ribs. He woke with a start, blinking and probably gathering his wits. Lalli looked down at him from where he was kneeling on his seat, but quickly looked away again. Being this close to Emil again did strange things to his heart that he couldn't deal with in the middle of a conversation with his cousin. It made him want to run his hands over Emil in a way he _definitely_ wasn't going to do in the middle of a conversation with his cousin. "Are we going to the aunt and uncle's house again?" he asked.

"Yes, and they have  _names_ , you know. You've met them several times; you might as well learn them."

He shrugged. He didn't care what their names were. They were Emil's aunt and uncle. Their relationship to Emil was about the only thing about them that made them worthy of notice, as far as he was concerned. "Then tomorrow we join the rest of the crew?"

He could tell Tuuri was resisting the urge to scold him. She'd probably tried telling him all of this before, and he must not have been listening, because he didn't remember any of the details of their schedule. She ought to have known better. She did manage to restrain herself to only rolling her eyes as she nodded. Lalli nodded back in understanding, then turned around to flop back into his chair.

Lalli could feel Emil looking at him, but he continued to examine the pattern woven into the cloth covering the seat in front of him. He wasn't sure what to do now. He hadn't been thinking when he had started touching Emil like that. He'd been out of his mind more than he had been in it.  _I really shouldn't have done it._ But yes, he should have. It had been exciting and tantalizing, and Emil's reaction had been every better. He just didn't know what to do now. His lips pressed together tightly as he kept his eyes turned away. If only Tuuri wasn't right behind them, then maybe...

There was a loud sigh, and he stole a glance to the side to see Emil had his chin propped on his hand and a dark frown on his face.  _That's my fault, isn't it?_ Lalli didn't like that thought. He didn't want to be the one to make Emil look unhappy. He shifted closer and Emil heard the noise and turned his face to look at him. Reaching up, Lalli ran a finger over that furrowed brow to smooth it out. Emil's face melted into an unsure smile.

This is what Lalli had first liked about Emil (aside from the providing of food and jackets). Lalli wasn't good at judging most people's expressions. He thought they were being serious when they were teasing him, or he thought they were joking when they were in fact mad. But Emil's face was easier to read than any book. Every thought that passed through his head passed right across his face as well. Lalli generally knew where he stood with Emil. He had lived most of his life feeling like he was trying to keep his balance on a sinking dock, tipping this way and that and sometimes falling into the depths of the water as he tried to reach other people. But Emil's solid reliability was like a homecoming. He could stand beside Emil on a shore that didn't move, and from there, he could stretch out a hand and reach him at any time.

 

 

Tuuri was standing up in her seat before the train had even come to a complete stop, and bustling down the aisle as soon the announcement began playing over the intercom system to welcome them to Mora. Emil moved rather more slowly, letting the other passengers shuffle out ahead of him as he stood between the seats. He could feel Lalli's silent presence at his back and considered leaning back into the mage for a brief moment. He wanted more than that, though--he wanted to get Lalli on his own and prove to himself that Lalli felt the same way he did. He hoped that the proving would involved mouths and hands and quite a bit more privacy than a dingy train car.

They passed through the entry inspection without any difficulties--this time Emil had known better than to bring any explosives in his personal baggage. He and Lalli were separated into different lines, but his heart squeezed when he saw Lalli come out of his decontamination chamber and make a beeline straight for him, as though Emil was his safe port in a storm. Emil wanted to show how much it meant to him, but he didn't know what to do in the crowded immigration office. So all he did was grin stupidly until Tuuri caught up with them and asked, "Do we have time to stop by a few shops?"

He looked up at the clock on the wall. "We do have a bit of time. Why? Was there something you need?"

"I wanted to visit one of the bookshops here in Mora. I didn't get the chance to last time."

"You want to get a book?" he said, watching as Tuuri pulled a paper from her bag. Lalli had stepped up beside him and was leaning slightly into him, their arms and shoulders pressed together in a long line.

"More than one, if I can! I don't know how much books cost here, though..."

"Isn't the point of the expedition to get books out of the Silent World? You want to buy books here and bring them them into it?"

She scowled at him as she straightened out her bit of notepaper, which seemed to have a list of addresses written on it. "Never mind that. Do you know this place?" Tuuri pointed to the first address on the list. He did know it--he had lived in Mora for several years, after all. As a student at the public school, he'd even had to patronize the book shops from time to time. He just hadn't expected to ever have to go back to any of them again. Lalli nudged him with a shoulder and Emil gave in, leading the way out of the station and into the shopping district. As soon as the book store's sign came into view, Tuuri slipped past Emil as though she simply couldn't wait any longer. She threw the door open with a jingle from the bell that hung from its top, and she had disappeared somewhere into the many rows of bookshelves by the time Emil and Lalli caught the door as it swung shut, filing in behind her.

Lalli slouched off into the back of the shop, leaving Emil to give the man at the counter a nervous grin. The owner did not smile back. Only his eyes moved, following Emil's every step as he hurried after Lalli into the out-of-sight corners of the shop. He hated bookshops. He was just looking over his shoulder nervously as he turned a corner--and a hand came out of the stacks to seize him by his shirt. Lalli hauled him into the narrow aisle between History and Science, trapping Emil against the shelves. His forearm was pinned across Emil's chest and in the quiet hush of the bookshop, he leaned in until their faces nearly met. Emil didn't question the attack. His hand rose automatically to wrap around Lalli's waist, drawing their bodies even closer together--just as he had done in a hundred confusing, tortorous dreams.

"Lalli..."

He whispered the name as Lalli's hand brushed across his cheek, coming to rest in his thick hair. Those ancient gray eyes filled his vision as Lalli moved closer--and then sprang back, spinning to face his cousin as Tuuri bustled into the aisle.

She gave the two of them an odd look before crouching down to search one of the bottom shelves. "What are you two doing? You'd better not be messing around in here. If you damaged the books in here, our salaries would all be garnished for the next, well, lifetime." There were already three other books tucked in the crook of her arm, and she pulled out another from the shelf and flipped through it before adding it to her growing pile. Lalli growled at her and she gave him an offended look, then snapped something in Finnish. He threw his hands up and stalked away toward the front of the shop. Emil slumped against the bookshelves at his back, and the breath that he'd been holding whooshed out of him in a great sigh. 


	6. Chapter 5

**5**

When he went to the front of the bookshop, Emil was alarmed to see no sign whatsoever of Lalli. His head swiveled from side to side before he spotted a thin figure with as-yet-unfamiliar spikes of silvery blond hair on the pavement outside. Lalli was standing in the middle of the pedestrian path with his arms crossed in a sulk, forcing everyone in Mora to swerve around him if they weren't in the mood to tackle the glowering Finn. He looked as though he might welcome the challenge.

Emil hustled back to Tuuri once to tell her that he would be waiting out front with Lalli, then tried to ease the front door open as gently as he could. However it was that Lalli might have managed to exit without the bell sounding, Emil did not share the same skill. The little brass bell chimed and Lalli stiffened, then shot a look over his shoulder. When he saw that it was Emil--and that Emil was alone--some of the tension went out of his shoulders. He turned back to the street to watch the traffic, giving an annoyed huff that he seemed to think Emil would understand. Emil did. They waited in frustrated silence until Tuuri came out of the shop clutching a bag in both arms as preciously as a new mother might carry her newborn.

It was unanimously agreed (meaning that Emil made the suggestion, Lalli shrugged, and Tuuri had little grounds on which to protest since she had spent all of her money already) that they should head for the Vasterstrom house to regroup with Siv and Torbjorn. Lalli shot off ahead of the other two, and Emil couldn't help being impressed as he watched Lalli make each correct turn. He had only visited the city once before, a year ago, and had made the trip to and from Emil's uncle's house a single time. Yet the scout showed not even a hint of uncertainty as he navigated the streets of Mora. They arrived in less than ten minutes, and Emil knocked on the door once before ducking back and to the side in case his small cousins were the first to reach it.

Luckily, it was Siv who stood behind the door when it swung open. "Oh, thank god," she said. "I thought Torbjorn was already back with the kids." She gestured them all in, peering nervously down the street as though her destructive brood might appear and spot her. "He took them out to the shops and promised that they could pick some godis if they behaved. That should keep them going for at least an hour."

She hugged Tuuri and held out her arms to Lalli--then quickly let them fall back to her side and offered him a quick pat on the arm instead. "It's good to see you both again. Come in,  come in." She led the way into the study, which was a wasteland of papers, books, and maps yet again. If anything, the piles had only grown deeper in the last year, and it seemed doubtful that anyone even knew what was in the lowest layers any longer. If Siv had any concerns about the organization of the expedition, though, she didn't express them. Instead she had a bright smile plastered on her face as she exclaimed, "We learned a lot from last winter and things will go  _much_ smoother this time around, I'm sure."

 

 

As Siv carried on talking about the new equipment they'd been able to get their hands on, Lalli gave Emil an impatient look. Why were they still standing here listening to the aunt go on and on about things they probably knew more about than her? The crew knew how to handle Denmark--even if it had chewed them up and spit them out the previous winter. Some city-born academic wasn't going to tell him anything he didn't already know about what his life would entail for the next several months. He was much more interested in the possibilities that might be waiting for him in the next several hours before he and Emil lost any chance at privacy in the tiny tank.

Emil seemed to have received the message, because he interrupted his aunt in the middle of her gibberish to exclaim, "Sounds great, Aunt Siv! I'm sure Tuuri would love to be filled in on all the details, as our navigator and all. And I have something to talk to Lalli about...upstairs. So we'll just leave you two to it."

The aunt stared at Emil, confirming for Lalli that he really had understood enough of Emil's words correctly. She then pointed out, "I thought the scout didn't speak any Swedish. What are you going to talk about without your interpreter?"

Lalli saw Tuuri open her mouth--likely about to explain that Lalli had been forcefed Swedish lessons all summer by her and was moderately conversational by now--so he gave her a hard look and shook his head violently.  _Don't you say it._ He hadn't exactly meant to keep it a secret; at first, he had simply been too flustered to say anything. The shock of seeing Emil and his confusion over Emil's easy greeting had robbed him of any words that he might have said. He had become accustomed to speaking Swedish with Tuuri during the summer: she favored an "immersion" style of teaching, as she described it, which meant that she refused to speak a word of Finnish to him for ages and would not recognize anything he said unless he at least attempted to say it in Swedish. Honestly, she was about as brutal of a teacher as Onni. Not that he had been surprised to discover this fact.

But she was the only person he'd ever spoken to in Swedish, and she was just Tuuri. The idea of actually talking to  _Emil_ in Swedish made everything he'd learned the past year fly from his mind, disappearing as quickly as smoke in the wind. And the longer he carried on _not_ talking to Emil, the more impossible it became to say anything. Tuuri couldn't just blurt it out. He had to figure out a way to explain first. Something other than "By the way, I understood most of what you've been saying for the past day." He suspected it wouldn't go over well, but if they were in private, he thought he might have a way to get back into Emil's good graces. It would also involve his mouth, but not the need for any words.

Emil's mouth, on the other hand, was flapping uselessly as he struggled to respond to his aunt's question. "I mean...I have something to show him upstairs?" The words climbed up a half octave before reaching the end of his sentence, ending on a questioning note.

"We already brought your bag down. Didn't you see it in the hall? Torbjorn wanted to be sure that kids didn't do anything to it while you were off to Bjorkofjarden."

Emil's face was turning redder by the moment, and Lalli was torn between wanting to sit back and watch the disaster unfold, and wanting to grab Emil by the arm and drag him out of the mess he was making of things. Speaking up to correct Siv's misunderstanding, though, was the one thing he still had no desire whatsoever to do.

"Then I'll go show him that!" Emil said desperately and he practically pulled Lalli's arm from its socket when he ran from the room with one arm clamped around Lalli's wrist. Lalli stumbled after in confused pursuit as Emil stomped down the hall, bending over once to snatch up the bag that was indeed sitting on the wooden floor near the front door. Slinging it onto his free arm, he pulled Lalli into the control room that had once been a living room and slammed the door shut after them. "Oh my god, could that have been any worse?"

Lalli smoothed a hand over Emil's head, brushing down the frazzled hairs that were hanging in his face. Emil caught his hand, holding it against his cheek and closing his eyes. "Lalli," he said softly, "please don't tell me I'm wrong about this. I'm not wrong, am I? I couldn't bear being wrong about this one thing."

Lalli lifted his right hand and pressed it to Emil's other cheek, gently turning the cleanser's face to him as he leaned in till their foreheads nearly touched. Emil opened his eyes and his cornflower blue eyes filled the world, making Lalli feel as though he were looking into the cloudless sky in summer. Should he say something now? But what if Emil was mad at him for not saying anything earlier to help him? If Emil was going to possibly get mad later, Lalli wanted to be sure that he finally got his kiss first. Explanations could wait.

He used his hold on Emil's face to tilt the Swede's face up toward his and leaned closer. He could feel his breath mingling with Emil's, as his brain distantly noted some raucous noise from out in the hallway. Whatever it was, it didn't matter. His lips had just brushed against Emil's in a touch as light as the wing of a moth, the sensation so paper-thin that one could wonder if it had only been imagined or they had actually made contact, when the door was thrown open behind Emil. It slammed into his back, sending his face smashing into Lalli's. Lalli saw stars as tears prickled in his eyes, his nose feeling like it might have been broken by Emil's unsurprisingly thick skull. He let out a string of furious curses in Finnish, partly because of the pain and mostly out of frustrated lust.

"I am going to kill them and sink their bodies to the bottom of the Baltic Sea," he growled as the three little devils that Emil insisted on calling his cousins swarmed around them. Luckily he had said it in Finnish, so Emil wasn't looking offended at the threat to the blond-haired beasts in human skins. Instead Emil had a mix of annoyance, frustration, and longing on his face that Lalli liked quite a lot. If only he could do something about it. He considered summoning a storm right here in the control room to try to blast the interfering children away--but even if his gods did respond to such a frivolous prayer, it wouldn't buy them privacy for long. Surely Tuuri and the mother would come rushing in to see why half the house had exploded. But if Lalli didn't get what he wanted soon, explosions seemed like an increasingly inevitable part of their future.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There was really no point to this update, was there? Nope. I just got some work off of my plate and decided an update was due. Alas, this silly little tale is nearly done...


	7. Chapter 6

**6**

As soon the entire Vasterstrom brood had returned, any hopes for privacy were dashed for the remaining hours they had left before departing the Mora house. Lalli was left in a foul mood, which made Emil feel even worse--and at the same time, oddly better. _At least_ _I'm not the only one frustrated this time._ Lalli's overtures had made it perfectly clear how interested he was, even if he didn't have the words to communicate how he felt. But the chance for Emil to take advantage of that interest seemed to be disappearing before his eyes. First his cousins had returned home and interrupted a perfectly steamy scene in the control room with their trademark form of chaos. Then Lalli had stormed out and spent the next twenty minutes grumbling in quiet, deadly-sounding Finnish to Tuuri, who had looked amused and alarmed by turns. Seeing that he was otherwise unoccupied, Siv had left the youngest of her brood to Emil so that she could battle the older two into completing their schoolwork, due the next day. So Emil played with little Olle while watching Torbjorn try to make some sort of dinner out of whatever random ingredients he had managed to grab at the shop when he wasn't chasing down one or more of his children.

Dinner was an odd affair. The food was a minor disaster, and none of the adults could carry on a serious topic for more than a few sentences without one of the children interrupting or spilling something. The only saving point, as far as Emil was concerned, was the way that someone kept running his narrow foot under the sole of Emil's own socked feet beneath the table. Emil assumed it was Lalli--he prayed it was Lalli. But that was the farthest they had got before it was time for everyone to start piling on their outer layers as they prepared for the long trek to the Dalahasten terminal. Kissekatt was located and forced into her carrier. She had been hiding from Bosse--who was indeed the boss of this house--since Emil had abandoned her at his uncle's house the evening before.

Siv would be seeing them to the terminal, more for the excuse to get out of the house than anything else, but would not be accompanying them all the way to Oresund this time. This year's expedition was all about cutting corners, and they figured that the crew had enough experience by now to deal with a few grumpy Danes on their own and that they would manage to find one another in a military base of less than 500 people. So after she saw them all onto the train with a wistful wave, the trio of Emil, Lalli, and Tuuri were on their own among the other poor souls who had no choice but to take the perilous trip down to Oresund.

Without any discussion, the threesome claimed the same bunks they had the last time. They were some of the first on the train, since they hadn't had to force Lalli aboard this year. They were already changed into their fresh uniforms and their spares had been stuffed into a single bag, which Emil had ended up carrying. Tuuri had insisted on bringing her new bag of books, but Lalli had brought nothing but his familiar rifle from Finland. Shoving the big duffel bag down to the foot of his bunk, Emil twisted around to see if everyone else was settling in. Some of the last passengers were still tucking their belongings away and removing bulky jackets in favor of the free, scratchy blankets provided by the train. He saw that Lalli was already curled in a ball, his face turned to the wall. It wasn't like they were going to talk anyway, but Emil was still disappointed by the sight.

Sighing, he eased himself down on the mattress, punching the pillow beneath his head a few times. A conductor walked by, reminding all passengers to please fasten their safety belts. Even if she hadn't sounded so bored, Emil would have ignored her. He crossed his feet at the ankles and stared up at the bunk above him as he listened to the passengers settling down all around him. The sounds slowly grew less and less, as everyone settled down in the hopes of passing the nerve-wracking journey in peaceful sleep. But sleep was still eluding Emil. 

The car was full of the quiet sounds of slumberous breathing when Emil finally rolled over on his mattress to peer at Lalli again. The scout didn't seem to have moved at all since Emil had laid down, but when Emil whispered his name, Lalli's head immediately shot up to look at him. He held a finger to his lips, then uncurled in one smooth motion. At the edge of his mattress, he got up on his knees, hooked his hands onto the metal frame supporting the bunks above them. Before Emil could hiss a question, he swung himself out, straightening his legs as he stood up on the edge of the mattress to peer into the space above them. There were no outraged exclamations, so Emil assumed that meant that the passengers above them--including Tuuri--were both asleep.

Lalli dropped back down onto his mattress soundlessly, though Emil didn't know how. Simply turning over on the lumpy cot had made of chorus of rustles when he did it. He opened his mouth, but Lalli wasn't done. With his lower half stretched across his own bed, he leaned himself out over the edge to check the beds below them. Emil couldn't see his face, since it was hanging over the edge of the bunk, but in a few second's time, Lalli was levering himself back up into their space. Emil's heart pounded as he scooted back into his original position--then it threatened to stop altogether as Lalli continued moving, stalking on hands and knees toward him.

With a purposeful look (which Emil only got a glimpse of as it passed over him), Lalli crawled across him clad in just his tight thermal shirt and uniform trousers.  _Do I dare? Why, yes, I think I do._ And Emil lifted a hand to run it along Lalli's waist and hip as that lithe body slithered by. Lalli twisted about, giving him a warning look as he slung a leg across Emil's hips. His hands he planted on the mattress to either side of Emil's face. Emboldened, Emil lifted both hands this time, sliding them up Lalli's sides and around his back. He could feel every shifting muscle beneath the thin black shirt, and he let his fingertips squeeze slightly into that thin back.

Lalli leaned down over him, his slight weight the only thing that reassured Emil that this wasn't simply a dream. Then Lalli's arms bent, his bony forearms pressing into Emil's shoulders as he brought their faces together. _At last._ Emil's lips parted as their mouths met in the softest of kisses, cautious and uncertain. No disaster immediately befell the train; no troll cracked through the hull to interrupt them. Emil's eyes fell shut as one of his hands moved up, almost of its own accord, to tug Lalli closer. Lalli's tongue darted out to slip along his upper lip and Emil arched up against him, his arms tightening around the thin body above his.

The door at the end of the compartment slid open, and there was a sharp intake of breath. Then a disapproving voice snapped out, "All passengers are to fasten their safety belts while the train is in motion." The conductor paused beside them as she walked by and said pointedly, " _One_ passenger per belt, if you don't mind. If you can't obey our safety protocol, we will have no choice but to enforce it."

She fingered the club at her belt, and Lalli hurled himself back onto his own mattress. He wrenched the belt across himself and latched it in place before giving the woman a glare that might have stopped some trolls in their tracks. She sniffed and moved on, passing through the next sliding door to the front car of the train. As soon as she was gone, Lalli turned and drummed his heels against the metal side of the train in a fit of frustration.

"Lalli!" Emil exclaimed. Lalli kicked harder for a moment, then gave in and threw himself flat on his back. It was too late, though, and Tuuri's sleep-tousled head appeared from above them.

"What are you doing!?" she hissed in a scandalized tone. Though the question had been in Swedish, it probably didn't need that much explanation. Her tone of voice was perfectly clear--as was Lalli's as he let loose a scathing stream of Finnish in return. Tuuri gave an offended huff and disappeared again, thumping down onto her cot above Lalli's as if she wished it was his face she was bashing into.

Emil settled on his stomach, his chin resting on one forearm as he reached his other arm out to stroke the spiky hair sticking up around Lalli's head. There was no response at first, as Lalli continued staring stubbornly up at the bunk above him. But eventually he sighed and turned onto his side so that he could crane his neck back to meet Emil's eyes. Emil gave him a bemused smile. As frustrated as Emil was, he couldn't help but feel warmed to his toes by Lalli's petulant fit over this latest interruption. "Sorry," he whispered, still petting Lalli like he might Kissekatt.

"Emil..." Lalli said his name softly, and Emil looked at him in surprise. It was perhaps the first time that Lalli had spoken directly to him since they'd been reunited. The Finn opened his mouth again, looking as though he wanted to say something. His gray eyes searched Emil's in the weak light of the emergency exit signs. But he closed his mouth without saying another word, then let his head fall onto the pillow again. Emil's fingers slipped through those spiky strands over and over until Lalli's eyes fell shut and he slipped at last into sleep. Even after he did, Emil didn't move to turn back onto his own pillow. He went on stroking Lalli's head until he fell asleep with his face flat against his arm and his limp fingers buried in Lalli's hair.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fluffity fluffy fluff. Almost done! Time for an overdue conversation. :D


	8. Chapter 7

7

When the trio stumbled off of the Dalahasten the next morning, still yawning and scrubbing at their faces, they were greeted by the familiar and unflappable visage of Mikkel Madsen. He cocked an eyebrow at their disheveled appearance and said drily, "It's good to see that a year hasn't changed any of you significantly. I feared you might have actually grown up in all that time."

"Sorry we're not _all_ old," Emil grumbled, dropping the large duffel bag beside his feet. But it was a relief to see the large Dane again, and there was no rancor in his voice as he asked, "So when did you get here, Mikkel?"

"I came over from Bornholm a few days ago to make sure that everything was in order," Mikkel said, lifting the bag that Emil had let fall. "Sigrun got in last night. If she is up and moving yet, she's probably to be found at the tank. Shall we go see?"

That was what they had come for, so they let Mikkel lead the way through the base's many stairwells and levels, Tuuri jogging along beside him to chatter brightly about the upcoming expedition. Emil and Lalli followed behind them, the backs of their hands brushing against each other with each swing, and they stole glances at each other every now and then. When would be the next time they might be alone? Not at least until they reached the other side of the Oresund bridge and could got out from the tank. Emil thought his feet felt heavier with each step.

At last they reached the large hall filled with hulking machinery that had been mothballed by the Danish army. At the end of the long rows was the familiar old tank, with its doors thrown wide open and a pair of legs sticking out the back. They slid back and the figure straightened up. Captain Sigrun Eide stretched her arms over her head and gave a great yawn, then spotted the group approaching her. "Oh! You guys finally made it!"

She slammed the door shut with a grin, then shoved her hands into the pockets of her jacket as she strode toward them. "I made sure we've got plenty of weapons and even more bullets. And Mikkel assures me that we have crates and crates of _real_ food this time." Hooking a thumb toward the tank, she suggested, "Toss your stuff in, and we can shove off. There's a whole world full of trolls just waiting to be murdered to pieces!"

"I believe we have one last thing to get loaded in the tank," Mikkel pointed out, as a pair of running feet clanged out across the metal flooring. The crew turned to see a figure sprinting toward them with the largest grin Denmark had probably seen in 90 years. Flopping behind it came an unmistakable red braid, thicker than most men's wrists and well over a meter long.

"No." The word escaped from Sigrun before anyone else could say a thing. "No, no, _no_. Why?!"

Reynir skidded to a stop, nearly bowling over Lalli as he misjudged how long it would take him to recover from a full-tilt run. The Finnish mage threw him off with an unfriendly growl, but Reynir's ecstatic look didn't lose a single watt. 

" _You_." Sigrun goggled at him like he was a fish that had just flopped out of the Baltic Sea and begun speaking. "What are you doing here?"

Reynir looked between her and Tuuri with a painfully awkward smile, and Tuuri jumped in front of Sigrun. "Didn't you read the letter the Vasterstroms' sent you? I'm sure that they must have mentioned it..."

"You can't expect me to read all those scribbles!"

Tuuri seemed to think that she could expect the captain of the expedition to at least read the instructions sent to her by said expedition's organizers. When she pointed this out, Sigrun scoffed. "I'm a busy woman, little puff. I showed up here on the right day, didn't I? Obviously I read the only important parts." Sigrun shook out her wild red hair, bringing a hand up to her head as though it pained her. "Except for the part about your mutiny. It was you, wasn't it? Who suggested this?"

"Eep." That was all Tuuri managed in response to her commanding officer's fearsome glare.

 

 

Lalli grabbed Tuuri by the arm and hissed in Finnish, “You _told_ him to come?”

“I didn’t _tell_ him to come! I just told him that we were going. And that if he wanted to come along again, he should contact the Vasterstroms.” Her face was red. “He’s learned lots of protective runes. He told me he did in his letters. Wouldn’t it be better to have a bit more protection around?” She gave Lalli a hopeful smile. “If you have to be the night scout _and_ the day scout _and_ the crew's mage, you might as well share a little bit of the maging where you can.”

Sigrun cut through their conversation with a sharp slice from her hand. "Enough of that mumbo jumbo. Why exactly am I stuck with this bit of troll bait again?"

"He really wanted to come, Sigrun! And he's been studying all year at their academy in Iceland, so he should be able to really help out as a mage this time, too. Plus he's been studying Swedish, too, so we won't have to worry about so many language barriers this time."

Sigrun's eyes were narrowed to near slits. "Oh, really? And how much Swedish did you learn?" she asked Reynir, crossing her arms over her uniform jacket. Every one of the crew members turned their attention on him to see what he would say.

Reynir's mouth hung open for several moments, then he offered uncertainly, "Um...yes?"

"It was not a yes-or-no question," Sigrun said flatly, before she threw her hands up on in the air in disgust. She turned to Lalli. "What about you, twigs? Don't tell me I'm now stuck with two mages that no one in the field can communicate with?"

"No problem," Lalli said, enunciating carefully in his best Swedish. "I can talk." It still rankled him that Reynir had natural abilities that he did not, but at least the bumbling fool made it easy for Lalli to prove that he was better trained at nearly every turn. The blinding grin breaking across the captain's face made ten months of endless drilling and practice with Tuuri seem worth it to have one-upped Reynir.

It was even better when Sigrun said, "I knew I could count on my favorite little forest mage! You guys are weird, but you're good. I'll give you that." She clamped one hand on his shoulder and shook him like a rag, which he knew by now to accept as some sort of Norwegian sign of approval. He was feeling buoyed higher than he had all morning--and then he saw Emil's face.

"Sometimes," Emil said in a choked voice, his mouth twisting like he'd eaten green berries, "sometimes I really can't believe you."

Then he stalked off away from the tank, though where he could be heading in the giant and unfamiliar military base was anyone's guess. Lalli swore and went after him. To be honest, Emil was one of the easiest targets he'd ever tracked. It was hard not to overtake him, but Lalli purposefully hung back until they were well out of sight--and hearing range--from the rest of the crew. He didn't try to hide the sound of his footfalls, though, and eventually Emil stopped and let him catch up the last few meters.

"Emil..." Lalli started, feeling like he was going to be expected to explain.

"I just feel like an idiot, you know?" Emil started talking before he turned around. Lalli reached up a hand unsurely, but didn't get to use it before Emil spun about. His face was red with anger and embarrassment, and the long wisps of hair that had come loose from his ponytail as he stomped across the base were clinging to his cheeks. "A day, Lalli. You don't say a word to me for the entire 24 hours since you arrived in Sweden--but now you suddenly speak Swedish just because, what, you wanted to get one over on Reynir?"

The tirade had been too quick and angry for him to follow completely, and he wasn't sure what 'get one over' meant, but it seemed Emil had probably seen right through his pleasure at besting Reynir. It made him feel petty, and Lalli didn't like the feeling. "I did not learn Swedish for him. You know why I did."

"No, I don't know!"

"You don't know? Why I learned Swedish? Why I almost climbed down your pants on the train?"

Emil's cheeks flushed even redder. "Lalli, I never know why you do half the things you do! I wish I did, but I don't! You're a mystery to me most of the time!"

"Are you always this stupid?"

"Yes!" Emil seemed almost relieved to shout the word. He shook his head, his eyes ground shut. "I _am_ always this stupid, only you never knew it before. But now you can understand me, and you're going to know just how stupid I am, and you're not going to want anything to do with me. And I've spent this entire year away trying not to think about you and trying not to wonder if I would ever see you again. And now you're here and you'll probably never want to ever see me again. And that's going to destroy me, because I'm in love with you and I can't seem to stop being in love with you!"

"Good." That was all Lalli said before he yanked Emil toward himself, accosting him with a kiss that contained every iota of his frustration. He had spent an entire year thinking that he was the only one feeling this way. If Emil felt even a fraction as desperate as he did, then he would not hold back any longer. Enough teasing. Enough interruptions and excuses. He was going to know if Emil could take what Lalli had to give him or not.

It turned out Emil could take it, and dish back plenty in return. He wrapped his thick arms around Lalli in a nearly painful embrace, and Lalli relished the sensation as he snuck his arms up around Emil's neck to avoid having them crushed. There was nothing gentle or testing this time. Their teeth collided and Lalli thought he tasted the bright copper of blood. His tongue swept through Emil's mouth hungrily and was met with an equal desperation. The entire base could have fallen down around them, and they would not have stopped this time. Not this one time.

 

 

When they finally starting walking back to the tank, Lalli had a smirk on his face and a gleam in his gray eyes. Emil paused with his arms over his head, his fingers caught in his hair as he tried to brush it back into a neat ponytail--as if that would help hide what they'd been doing for the half hour they'd been missing. Lalli's lips looked bruised in way that there weren't many explanations for, as far as Emil knew. Which meant that his probably looked much the same. Emil didn't give a whit. The whole crew could know exactly what they'd been doing for all he cared. It was surely only a matter of time before their secret was out anyway; privacy was scarcer even than a good meal in the Silent World.

"Lalli, there's something I've been wondering," Emil said, tying off his hair and letting his arms fall back to his sides. "I didn't want to ask Tuuri to translate before, but now..." He took a deep breath. "Why did you just disappear in the spring?"

The pleased smile faded from Lalli's recently assaulted lips. He kept his eyes fixed on the distance instead of meeting Emil's questioning look. "I didn't mean to."

Emil couldn't help a flash of annoyance, as the hurt came back to him. He hadn't been able to believe it at first--that Lalli had truly left him in a hospital bed without a word. Even the most casual acquaintance would have said a simple good-bye, and he'd thought their friendship was worth far more than that. "How do you  _accidentally_ disappear on a person?"

Now that Lalli's hair had all been cut away, Emil could see for the first time how a muscle beneath his ear twitched as he clenched his jaw. "Onniknockedmeout," he ground out through his teeth.

" _What?"_

"Onni knocked me out." Lalli repeated the words more clearly, though he was still speaking through his teeth. "I still don't know what he did. He refuses to tell me what it was. Some kind of attack on my spirit."

Emil stopped, catching Lalli's thin arm. "Why? Why would he do that?"

Lalli continued to stare stubbornly at something in the distance. "I wouldn't let go of the door."

"You...what?" Emil struggled for words.

Lalli stepped up against him, bringing their bodies together as he slipped a hand around Emil's waist. He finally lifted his eyes to look at Emil's astounded face. "I wouldn't have left you--not like that. I wouldn't have left you at all." He tilted his face to the side as his mouth found Emil's again. "I'm not leaving again," he said softly, his lips brushing against Emil's even as he spoke. "Except when I go out scouting."

Emil laughed into their kiss. "You don't want me tagging along for that?"

"No, Emil." Lalli said seriously. "You'd get me killed. Stay safe in the tank, and I will return to you."

"You promise?"

"I promise."

"Always?"

"As long as you want me to."

"So that's always then."

Lalli's smile was slow and beautiful. "Yes. That's always then."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I kind of forgot that I'd set up that whole angst about Lalli disappearing at the beginning of the story, before it all devolved into pure fluff. So we had to at least address that a bit--even if it's rather rushed. Hope you enjoyed this silly little story! More to come soon!


End file.
